


Say something.

by Rogue1987



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Brad is bad at feelings, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, References to Depression, Reminiscing, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22158697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue1987/pseuds/Rogue1987
Summary: Brad severely misses Ray after they're back from Iraq. Ray however seems adamant on tormenting Brad throughout his dreams.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Ray Person
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	Say something.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm bad at summaries. I've watched Gen Kill a loooot of times but I never wrote a Brad/Ray fic, which is funny considering it's my favourite pairing. I guess I just worried about getting their vocabulary right, seeing how I'm not a native English speaker. So I'm pretty much winging it.  
> I think this will have two chapters or maybe three, we'll see. There won't be actual suicide in this story, just mentions of it and mild depression. 
> 
> I'm changing the storyline a bit, Brad and Ray sort of fell out after Ray got punched by Rudy during the football game, so they never exchanged that little moment when Lilley showed them their video when Ray brought Brad a drink. The rest is pretty much canon. 
> 
> Also, I want to start writing more Gen Kill one-shots about numerous pairings, so feel free to send me your ideas and prompts. The only pairing I won't write is Brad/Nate, simply because I can't ship it. I also have plans for a Garza/Chaffin one and I would love to write about Christeson and Stafford.  
> So feel free to send me your pairings and thoughts.  
> I hope you guys like it, send me your thoughts. I can't write without feedback.

_Brad._

"Hey Brad, do your big gay Al for me?"  
Brad saw himself ignoring him, just like he had the first time Ray asked him to do it. "Oh come oooooon buddy, do it for your old pal Ray, the one who made the right turn," Ray pleaded, big eyes gleaming like haunting emeralds in the dark desert night. Brad felt himself sighing once again, knowing that refusing Ray anything would be pointless as fuck. And to be fair, Ray had just done some straight-A driving.  
Also, Brad was indulgent as fuck, but only when it came to Ray. "Well hello there little pup, I'm big gay Al. Have you been outcast?!"  
"Fuck yeah!" Ray's delighted chuckle piped up for a second time around and then the memory faded and morphed into a new one before Trombley could go on a rampage about the gay bar that got trashed every night in Michigan.

Brad was well aware that he was dreaming but for some inexplicable reason didn't have any desire to wake anytime soon. It felt nice to take a trip down memory lane, warts and all. Singing _"Loving you,"_ with Ray, making jokes about his bow-legged mother and trailer parks, hearing himself complain about Ray's disgusting manner of drinking a milkshake. 

He saw Ray sitting beside him in the Humvee during the night recon on the bridge, asking him dumb questions about their surroundings because he had no depth perceptions in his NVG's.  
Annoyed as he was, he also felt the sheer panic clenching in his chest when Ray (in his infinite retardation ) left the minimum safety of their vehicle to actually step out to shout at Lilley while bullets zipped past his head and RPG's hit the gravel right beside his feet. Shouting him to back the fuck up.  
He vividly recalled the relief when Ray got back into the Humvee in one piece, seemingly unscathed. The need to yell at Ray for endangering his life like that returned but Brad was too preoccupied with shooting Hajis to be bothered.  
They'd never talked about it afterwards, even though Brad really wanted to kick Ray's ass for being so reckless. Ray brushed over it like nothing ever happened and Brad let it slide, apprehensive to delve into emotions that were better left unstirred. Some stones were better left unturned.

He then saw the convoy being attacked by the Zeus in the middle of the field. Brad jumped out of the vehicle, yanking the reporter and Walt along with him. When he looked back he noticed that Ray was still sitting behind the wheel. His heart ached. "Ray, get out of the vehicle!"  
Ray obeyed and jumped behind the dune into safety.  
Brad, in his blind panic, had forgotten that Trombley was still in the Humvee too. His sole focus at that time had been on getting Ray the fuck out of danger. He'd forgotten about their fearless little psychopath and had never felt like a more lousy team leader in his life.  
It wasn't until Ray started shouting at Trombley to get the fuck down that he truly noticed his absence.

The image then flooded towards the outskirts of Baghdad, when Ray, who couldn't be quiet to save his own life, actually fell into that eery silence due to the lack of Ripped Fuel and sleep deprivation. Brad recalled how worried he was about Ray in those days, how closed off he was from all of them, even from Brad.  
He just sat there, pondering and brooding, looking more dead than alive. Walt was concerned too, as Ray's close friend and even Trombley, who never seemed to care for anyone or anything mentioned that Corporal Person had "looked better."  
Brad had turned to Doc for advice on how to handle Ray but he wasn't much help. Grumpy as always he brushed it off as exhaustion and said that Ray just needed a good night's sleep.  
The day the reporter left them was when Brad finally had enough of it and decided to bring it up and confront Ray. "Hey, where the fuck did you go? You haven't said two words since Baghdad,"  
Ray just shrugged. No witty comebacks, no clever remarks or jokes. He was all serious now, like Brad. All work and no play.  
Brad genuinely _hated_ it, he relied on Ray's Moto humour, his talent to turn even the shitties situation into a funny one. The entire team benefited from it and now it was all gone. Ebbed away. Ray had almost turned into Brad as scary as that thought was. "No more Ripped Fuel,"  
Brad wasn't sure how to respond to that. Ray always seemed to know exactly what to say around him but now that he seemed lost so was Brad. He felt like the captain of a ship without its navigator.

After Rolling Stone had said his goodbyes Ray decided to join the football game. "Back among the living?" Brad inquired, glad to see Ray up and about again. Ray made a nonchalant gesture and followed Poke. Brad observed the game from afar and noticed that in hindsight playing a football game with a bunch of sleep-deprived, repressed marines wasn't the best idea.

Encino Man provoked Captain Patterson, who kicked him into the dirt and started kicking the crap out of him.  
And Ray had been moronic enough to mess with Rudy, of all people. _Rudy_. Who they all constantly jumped and ambushed to test their combat strength and who they all got destroyed by on a daily basis. Rudy's martial arts skills were unmatched.  
And Ray had picked that guy to get into a fight with. It was really fucking stupid and Ray was generally incredibly smart.  
Brad hurried over as soon as he saw Ray go down and Rudy land on top of Ray's slender waist as his fists mangled up Ray's face. Gunny Wynn pulled Rudy off Ray while Manimal told him to go to his quiet place to chant. Ray shouted something to Rudy about being a PTSD-psycho before storming off, crying. Brad stepped in behind him, gazing at Rudy with an icy stare. "You okay?"  
Ray ignored him. He went into the old storage building they used as a Barrack, laid down on his bunk and sighed defeated. Brad, who had the opposite rack, sat down on the cold floor in front of Ray and lowered his hand to touch his shoulder. "Don't," Ray warned. "Don't you fucking dare pity me,"  
"Ray-"  
"Just go, I know comforting is a little above your pay-grade, just leave me alone,"  
"You need to put some ice on your face,"  
"I can do that myself, I don't _need_ you to help me,"  
"C'me on, Ray-"  
"Get the fuck out! Now!" Ray exploded, shouting so loud that nearby Alpha Marines looked up from their downtime. Brad knew that he shouldn't leave Ray alone, not in his current state. He needed him. Even if he was yelling at him. In a perfect world, Brad would have stayed. But Brad was a snivelling coward when it came to deeper feelings and he saw himself walking away from Ray as tears prickled in his eyes.

And that was it. The moment things changed between him and Ray. The moment when Brad ruined whatever they had shared for years. He looked at himself and mumbled, "Go back you stunted idiot, just sit there with him, be there for him," but his former self left. As he knew he would.  
During the flight home, Ray had sat beside Walt instead of him and Brad had felt incredibly lonely. Kocher was sitting next to him but it wasn't the same. When they arrived back in Oceanside, Ray had dutifully shaken his hand goodbye and that was it. Their big goodbye.  
There were no calls, no messages. Nothing. Total radio silence.  
Brad had tried to pick up his life the best he could but nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

Brad's dream altered once more, going to a scene he hadn't seen before. This wasn't a memory.  
Ray was sitting in his Oceanside apartment holding a knife in his right hand. Blood was gushing out of his wrists and the colour evaporated from his cheeks. Brad rushed over, screaming something incoherent. He knelt in front of Ray's lifeless body, taking the knife from his hand and pressing down hard on his wounds, futilely trying to stop the bleeding.  
"No, no, no. What did you do? Ray! Ray!!! Wake up!" he cradled Ray in his arms and held onto him tight, releasing the wounds, knowing damn well that he was too late to save him. Ray was dead. He'd killed himself and Brad just stood by and watched.  
 _"I-needed-you,"_ Ray's voice didn't come from his physical form but Brad heard it anyway, lingering in the air like a repeating echo, laced with blame. It cut through him like a knife. He cried harder than he ever had in his life, holding onto Ray's body for dear life.

And then he woke up, trembling and sweating, shouting Ray's name. His pillow was damp from the tears that were still rolling down his cheeks. Judging by his dark bedroom it was still the middle of the night but Brad was wide awake. He had to find Ray, now.  
There was this tangible pull at his heart that told him that it was urgent.  
Ray might seriously be in trouble and actually need him. He put on a shirt and some sweats and stumbled into the living room, picking up his phone and dialled Ray's number. It was only two in the morning but Ray seldom slept. Some things were never meant to change.  
After practically getting the voicemail ( Brad knew Ray was just ignoring him on purpose again ) he grabbed his bike from the garage and drove the short distance to Ray's place, going way too fast and surely earning himself some speeding tickets again.  
Seeing how they were all still on standby they all lived in Oceanside and Brad was glad he didn't have to hop on a plane to Missouri to get to Ray.

His fingers trembled when he reached up to ring the doorbell. While he anxiously waited he was contemplating whether this was such a great idea, to begin with, but before he had the chance to turn back the door opened and a half-naked Ray appeared in the doorway clad in nothing but a pair of long boxers and flip flops. "Brad? What the fuck are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?"  
Brad was hopelessly speechless for once in his life. Literally. The words were caught in the back of his throat as he pulled Ray into his arms and suffocated him with the fiercest hug he'd ever given anyone.  
"The fuck's gotten into you? Have you been smoking dope without me?" Ray's words seemed humorous but his tone was distant and Brad didn't feel Ray returning the hug, much to his disappointment.  
"Shut up, Ray. _Please_ ,"  
"Yeah, whatever, can you let me go now, you're choking me you big brute,"  
"Sorry," Brad offered, reluctantly letting Ray slip out of his grip. He wanted to hold onto him, as stupid as it sounded. Needed to feel Ray's pulse coursing through his veins. Needed to be reassured that he was still alive. He was being completely ridiculous.

Ray made no indication that he was going to invite Brad inside, crossing his arms together in the doorway, looking royally pissed off. "So, why are you here, Iceman? Run out of sugar or something?"  
"Can I come in?"  
"No, not until you tell me what you want. Did someone die?"  
"No, I just-had to see you,"  
"Why? And why now?"

Brad exasperated deeply, as he tried to muster all of his renowned courage. "I dreamed of you,"  
Ray's lips twitched up and that mischievous glint returned to his brown eyes. "Ohhhh??? Well, I guess I should have known you've always been gay for me, hell everyone was always gossiping about us anyway,"  
"Ray," Brad warned. He felt the words slip out before he could hold them in, the words he should have said three months ago. "I'm sorry,"  
"For..."  
"For leaving you in Baghdad after the game. I should have stayed with you but I couldn't and I hate how you ended up hating me for it. You needed me and I left. I fucking ruin everything I touch. Everyone I meet. They never stay. So I leave them first. But I made a mistake, Ray.  
I was a coward and I'm sorry. It's too quiet in my house you know. I miss hearing your voice blabbering about gay bars, lack of pussy, NAMBLA or even fucking April Lavigne. I can't sleep and when I do, I dream of you dying in my arms, telling me that you needed me and that I fucking failed you,"  
"Wait, is that why you dragged your lovely Viking ass all the way over here because you dreamt I was dead?"  
"Yes, you...I dreamt I saw..." Brad's voice broke and Ray finally caved and lead him inside his messy apartment. "Sit your giant ass down, I'll get you some water,"

Brad lowered himself onto the plain eggshell coloured couch and shoved some clothing to the side to make room for them to sit. How could Ray live in a pigsty like this? Brad's house was pristine, highly sanitary ( borderline sterile ) and well organized.  
Ray's place was the polar opposite of Brad's, just like Ray's entire persona. And yet they made perfect sense together, for reasons that Brad would never comprehend.  
Spiritual warrior hippies like Rudy called them Yin and Yang but what the hell did they know? All Brad knew for certain that without Ray in his life, regardless of his role, he felt completely miserable and alone.

Ray returned from the small kitchenette ( with a t-shirt on thankfully ) carrying a glass of water and nudged it into Brad's hand before sitting down on the couch beside him, glaring at him pensively, sizing him up as if he tried to make sense of it all. "So, are you going to tell me why you're so fucking upset?"  
"Are you depressed, Ray?"  
Ray blinked, his jaw faltering slightly. "Why do you ask?"  
"Don't deflect the question, just answer it,"  
Ray shrugged, he fucking _shrugged_ as if they were debating whether MRE strawberry milkshakes were better than the banana ones. "Don't you dare brush this off as nothing, Ray. Answer me,"  
"Maybe sometimes," Ray replied cagey, averting his eyes to the ceiling. Anything to avoid Brad's stare.  
"Why? PTSD or is it something else?"  
"Who knows, Brad. I sure as hell don't,"  
"You should talk to someone, like doc. Maybe he can send you to a therapist or something like that,"  
Ray scoffed aloud, lighting a cigarette. "No fucking way, homes. It's not like they would understand it anyway. Shrinks haven't been to war, dumbass,"  
"Well maybe you can talk to Gunny about it then, or Fick. Or Rudy,"  
"You just don't get it, do you? I don't _want_ to talk to anyone about it,"  
"Not even to me?"  
"Especially not to you. Wait, is that why you're here? Did you dream about me doing something stupid?"

Brad turned to face him, searching his mind for a last ounce of bravery. His voice wavered. "Yeah, I saw you kill yourself. Slid your wrists and you bled out in my arms,"  
Ray's expression softened and his hand trembled on the stub of his smoke. Brad folded his cold fingers together and forced the necessary words from his lips. "You blamed me for not being there for you when you needed me. I left you. I could feel you resenting me for walking out in Bagdhad. I had to make sure you were okay, so I drove here. To be sure,"

Ray discarded his nearly burnt cigarette and finally took ahold of Brad's freezing hands. Ray was warmth where Brad was ice, radiating hot like the overwhelming power of the sun.  
Brad felt the heartbeat pulsating underneath his touch. The sign of life he'd craved for. "Brad, you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. I send you away-remember? I literally pushed you out of the room,"  
"Oh fuck off, Ray. You were distraught and miserable and I should have ignored your shitty objections and taken care of you as a good TL would do. I should have brought you an icepack for your face. I was a shitty friend. I didn't have to storm out of there like a fucking weak-hearted pussy.  
I made my choice and it was the biggest mistake of my life.  
And now I can't sleep without seeing your god-awful stupid hick face. Without hearing your voice in my head, blaming me for it. I don't know how to be on my own without you. I guess I'm just a sentimental Hebrew moron for missing your sorry ass. Sue me. There it's out, I said it. Let the gloating commence,"

But for once, the gloating never came. Ray only clasped onto his hands tighter and forced Brad to look him closely in the eyes. "Brad, you're still not hearing me. You don't get it, do you? I _wanted_ you to leave me alone. I don't blame you for walking out on me. I needed you to. I couldn't be weak in front of you, don't you understand that? I admire you, homes, you're the strongest dude I know.  
The best fucking man I know. I couldn't let you see me be soft and frail like some skinny damsel in distress. So I let Walt take care of me when you were gone. He wanted to get you back in but I refused to let him,"  
"But then why did you treat me like shit from that moment on? You ignored me all the way home," None of it made any sense to Brad. It seemed like Ray was speaking in a foreign language.

Ray sighed deflated. It was hard to believe that those hollow, empty eyes had once been the source of all things light and happy. A reason for hope. All the joy had evaporated from them and Brad feared their current ghostly expression. "Because I thought it would make it easier for me. Separating myself from you before we actually got home. That it would make it easier to go back to living alone, to get used to not constantly having you around. I didn't want a whole, sad sappy goodbye. I thought it might be better for us to go our own way with you pissed at me,"

"Well, you seriously miscalculated that one, Ray. Do you want the truth? I fucking hate not constantly having you around,"  
"So what? What do you want me to do about it?!"  
 _"Move in with me,"_

It was the first time since Brad knew him that he truly caught Ray at a complete and utter loss for words. The sheer disbelief on his face was nearly comical.  
Brad wanted to kick himself for running his big fucking mouth like that, for letting his guard down around Ray. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the hell had he gotten himself into now?

_TBC......_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! I hope you liked it. Let me know. My insecure ass needs to hear it. <33


End file.
